


Twelve Days of Christmas

by withoutmarbles



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Gen, ignores Breaking Dawn, nonlinear timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-14
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-01 09:55:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2768921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withoutmarbles/pseuds/withoutmarbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas in the Cullen house was, as a general rule, a very big deal. Really, there was no way it couldn’t have been with Esme, Alice, and Emmett under the same roof. November 1st always marked the beginning of a two-month-long reign of terror, bringing with it an onslaught of tinsel, string lights, evergreen trees, Santa hats- well, Rosalie preferred not to think about it any more than she had to.</p><p>Twelve days of Rosalice leading up to Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Santa Hat

**Author's Note:**

> How better to pass the days before Christmas than to write slashfic? Prompts courtesy of my lovely friend Sammy.

 

_on the first day of christmas..._

Christmas in the Cullen house was, as a general rule, a very big deal. Really, there was no way it _couldn’t_ have been with Esme, Alice, and Emmett under the same roof. November 1st always marked the beginning of a two-month-long reign of terror, bringing with it an onslaught of tinsel, string lights, evergreen trees, Santa hats- well, Rosalie preferred not to think about it any more than she had to. 

In fact, had it been up to her, she wouldn’t have so much as set foot outside her room, not until the initial flurry of Christmas cheer had torn through. But, ever since Alice had joined the family, that had proven impossible. Even if Rosalie hadn’thad a special affinity for her, which she most certainly did, Alice would have been impossible to fight. Last year, she had watched the smaller girl drag Edward out of his room by his collar and jam an elf hat over his pouf of bronze hair.

So, when Alice hadn’t made an appearance by nightfall on November 1st, Rosalie was concerned.

Concerned maybe wasn’t the right word — nine times out of ten, she trusted Alice to take care of herself. Perturbed was probably more accurate, and even that was most likely a side effect of being the tinsel-bearer while Esme decorated for five hours straight.

Eventually, once the last spool had been used up, Rosalie managed to excuse herself from a fifth rousing chorus of ‘Deck the Halls’, in Mandarin this time. She wasn’t sure what excuse spilled from her lips, but whatever it was, it got her back upstairs and into her mercifully un-Christmasy room.

That was where she found Alice.

That on its own was nothing unusual; Alice technically had her own room, but she lived half out of Rosalie’s. Rosalie would have assumed everything was fine had Alice just been laying on her bed, drawing or something. 

But Alice was not on Rosalie’s bed and she was not drawing or something. She was sitting with her chin on her knees in the closet, right in the middle of what looked like a Christmas hurricane.

When Rosalie pushed the door open, Alice didn’t look up. In spite of this, it was obvious her eyes were almost black.

“I’ve looked everywhere,” Alice mumbled to no one in particular.

It didn’t _look_ like she had looked everywhere. It looked much more like everywhere had come to Alice.

“It should have been in the box,” she said, and it sounded like she had repeated the phrase to herself more than once. “I put it there last year. I _know_ I did. I’ve looked _every_ where.”

“For?”

Finally, Alice turned her eyes, round and sad, to Rosalie, like she had just noticed her standing there.

“My Santa hat.” 

Rosalie stared at her.

“Your Santa hat?”

Alice nodded mournfully.

“You’ve been sitting in my closet all day because you can’t find your Santa hat?”

Another nod. “I couldn’t help decorate without it,” she explained, her voice quiet. “It’s tradition.”

Right. Tradition. With someone else, Rosalie might have argued that of _course_ it was possible to skip a tradition one year, but this was Alice, who had come into the world with no traditions of her own. She needed things in her past that belonged to her, and the only way she had ever been able to go about that was by making traditions and following patterns. It was only a hat to the rest of them, but for Alice, it was an anchor. But, still-

“Why didn’t you ask to borrow someone else’s? You know Edward never wears his.”

Alice shook her head furiously, and, sounding tearful, said, “No! That’s _his._ I need my _own._ I’ve had it since my first Christmas with Jasper and if I can’t find it I-”

Rosalie cut her off by plucking her own hat off her head and settling it on Alice’s. It fell right over her eyes, but it would have to do.

“You can wear mine.” When Alice went to push the hat off, Rosalie added, “Don’t argue with me. I’ve been wearing it all day and it’s messing up my hair.”

“But it’s _yours_ ,” Alice protested, bunching the fabric.

“Yes, and because it’s mine, I get to decide what I do with it.” Rosalie took Alice’s hands and removed them from the hat. “If you really want, we can share it until we find yours.”

“Are you sure?” Her voice was still several pitches too high with anxiety. Rosalie couldn’t help but think that Jasper would be infinitely more qualified to deal with a nerve-ridden Alice, but he had been missing all day, too.

“Absolutely.” Rosalie released Alice and stood up, turning to leave the closet. “Now, are you going to sit there all night, or are you going to help us decorate the tree? Esme’s been waiting for you.”

Alice was on her feet and halfway out the door in seconds. She paused long enough to bounce up and peck Rosalie on the cheek before racing downstairs and into the living room, where she could immediately be heard giving orders as if nothing had happened. She always had been a fickle little thing.

Rosalie never did get her hat back.


	2. Ornaments

_ on the second day of christmas... _

Alice _was_ going to make this work.

Sure, almost every part of the tree was already weighed down by an ornament, but there had to be room for one more, right? There had been room last year, and the year before — or had they picked up more ornaments since? She couldn’t remember, but she was sure that they all had to fit somehow. She would have noticed something like an unfinished Christmas tree in her future.

“But it _wouldn’t_ be unfinished,” Edward said from the couch where he had been lounging and watching his sister struggle for the last hour. “It would just be one bauble short. Can’t you just put it somewhere else?”

Alice ignored him and walked another circle around the tree. It was at least twice her size, so she couldn’t see the top, but she’d had Emmett assure her multiple times that the top was just as full as the bottom. 

But, just to be sure… 

She leapt onto the back of the couch to get a better look. At this, Edward finally sighed and left, mumbling something about Christmas and ‘ridiculous little sisters’.

Alice hardly heard him as she hopped back down and resumed her pacing. She would have liked to put up the star as much as anyone else, but it couldn’t be done until everything else was perfect. Besides, it didn’t affect the others; she was always the one to top the tree, so it didn’t matter when she did it as long as it got done.

For another few minutes, Alice stared at the tree.

And stared some more.

And then, for a change of scenery, she stared at nothing as she tried figure out what she would ultimately decide on doing.

Still nothing.

She tried harder. There had to be _some_ outcome, because she wasn’t very well going to die right there, trying to decorate the Christmas tree.

This must have taken longer than anticipated, because, when Alice came back down to earth, Rosalie had materialized next to the tree. She’d put on her night-things (which more or less consisted of a very short nightgown and a white silk robe) which, Alice supposed, meant that she was supposed to be coming to bed, too.

“Are you almost done, or am I going to be waiting until Boxing Day?” Rosalie asked, golden eyes trained on Alice as she did another lap.

“Almost done. I only have one more, plus the star.”

“You said that three hours ago.”

“Well, it’s _true.”_

Rosalie didn’t answer this and instead took an ornament and inspected it.

“We didn’t have this one last year,” she commented, twisting the red bulb between her fingers. There was something in her voice that put Alice on edge, but she tried to ignore it. She had been testing out a new tactic she liked to call ‘not being suspicious of Rosalie all the time’, but, so far, it hadn’t been working. After years of watching Rosalie parading around in shorter and shorter skirts just because she knew about Alice’s little crush, it proved difficult to let go of certain misgivings.

“Oh.”

Rosalie twisted it around again, holding it slightly away from the tree as if she needed to see it in better light.

And then it was gone. Twisted into dust and very much gone.

“Oops.”

Alice blinked several times and still couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

Finally, “ _Why_ would you do that?”

She bit her lip and shrugged, a study in innocence. “I forget my own strength sometimes.”

“Rosalie, you’re seventy years old. You don’t forget your own strength.”

Another shrug. “But, on the bright side, there’s an opening for that ornament, now.”

Alice scowled. It wasn’t the same if you just brokethe other ornaments to make room, and Rosalie knew that. 

“Oh, come on,” Rosalie said. “Just do it and be done.”

“You do it, since you’re so keen.”

And she did.

Had it been up to Alice, she wouldn’t have so much as spoken to Rosalie after that, but the fact remained that the tree was almost twice Alice’s height and she had yet to put the topper up. So, when Rosalie raised an eyebrow, Alice begrudgingly allowed herself to be hoisted by the waist as if she were a child, star in hand.

Neither of them was sure how it happened. It should have gone perfectly. They were both gifted with incredible coordination and strength, after all.

But, when Alice stretched out to settle the star on the top of the tree, one of them overestimated or underestimated or stretched too far, and the tree came crashing down, bringing Alice and Rosalie with it.

Even trapped beneath a prickly blanket of pine needles, Alice couldn’t help but smile. She’d have to redo the tree tomorrow, and it would be _perfect._


	3. Cookies

_ on the third day of christmas... _

Every winter, Esme and Rosalie baked hundreds of cookies for local shelters. Alice never joined them — she had proven herself a horrible baker years ago and, besides, she much preferred to watch.

It was a day-long affair, from the earliest hours in the morning to the latest in the evening, and it was maybe the only time of year Rosalie would listen to Esme without arguing. There seemed to be some sort of unwritten code of conduct for cookie-making which involved neither of them getting short with each other and focusing solely on the domestic task at hand.

The first year Alice had lived with the Cullens, she had been surprised to come into the kitchen and find not just Esme, but Rosalie, both hard at work one December morning. (She’d often been surprised to find Rosalie was in _any_ room, mostly because she’d been in the nasty habit of devolving into a stuttering wreck when the other girl looked at her a certain way.) It wasn’t uncommon to find Esme baking throughout the year; she had always done all sorts of it for school bake sales and for shelters and for goodness knows what else; but Rosalie, like the others, always steered clear of the kitchen. Alice hadn’t thought Rosalie was even capable of lifting a finger to do any housework, and yet there she had been, her capable hands a blur as she worked.

Alice had wanted to stay and watch them work that first time, but it had been years before she could relax  enough around Rosalie to even consider it.

But, for the last two decades or so, it had become as much of a tradition for Alice to sit cross-legged at the breakfast bar while they baked as it was for them to do the actual baking.

Initially, Alice had spent her time trying to figure out why Rosalie did it. It couldn’t have been for a sudden love of baking, because she didn’t do it at any other time of the year. It wasn’t for want of Esme’s company, either, because their mother was anything but scarce.

Whatever it was, it changed Rosalie for the better, even if just for a day _._ It was so rare that her eyes lit up with genuine happiness.

After a while, Alice stopped caring about Rosalie’s reasons.

Instead, she cared about the long hours she spent hurrying around the kitchen, her golden hair tied up in a tight bun; the way she still consulted the recipe year after year even though she had to have it memorized by now; the way she checked on the cookies every five minutes on the dot, _just in case._ She cared about the way Rosalie’s face scrunched up when she got flour on her clothes and the way she didn’t say anything about it, just swallowed her ire and brushed it off.

It was all so un-Rosalie of her, but, somehow, it had never seemed out of place. Like somewhere underneath the haughty, brusque girl, there was this girl with a lightness to her expression.

After a few years, Alice had a idea about why she did it, of course. She always went with them to deliver the cookies, and there was no denying that Rosalie’s softness of character carried over to the days they visited local women’s shelters.

Alice chose not to mention it. Rosalie would fiercely deny showing any sort of softness anywhere but behind the closed doors of her own bedroom, anyways, and there was no point scaring her off it.

But Alice knew.

And that, every holiday season, was enough.


	4. Lights

_on the fourth day of christmas..._

The Cullens weren’t used to having competition. 

They rarely lived within city limits, so, every winter, their house was the only thing lit up for miles. They often had acres of forest to work with and no humans around to notice the inhuman speed at which they strung their lights, which resulted in some elaborate displays.

2014 had brought them to the quiet suburbs of Binghamton. They certainly weren’t wall-to-wall with any other houses, but, for the first time in decades, they had neighbours. Neighbours with extravagantly decorated houses.

All day, Esme had been watching her children cycle through the living room with narrowed eyes, the window of which faced the brightly lit house across the street. Esme had personally found the display quite charming; it looked like a gingerbread house and had clearly had a lot of work put into it.

Her children, however, were taking it as a personal offense. They weren’t used to being second-best. Privately, Esme thought it could do them well to be (quite literally) outshone for once, but she knew better than to interfere when the lot of them got their heart set on something.

And, goodness, did they have their hearts set on one-upping their neighbours. 

Alice and Jasper had left several hours ago to ‘pick up some things’, which had been frighteningly nonspecific. Rosalie had been standing by the window for the last little while, her arms crossed and her eyes narrowed as if she could burn down the offending house by glaring at it long enough.

Esme had been surprised by Rosalie’s involvement with the whole thing. She was competitive to be sure, but she had never been particularly fond of the more commercial side of Christmas. Thinking of docile, noncompetitive Jasper, though, Esme supposed that Alice could have that effect on people. For someone so tiny, she could be awfully domineering.

“Yes, Esme?”

She must have been looking on longer than she’d thought. 

“Oh, nothing,” Esme said with a smile, though Rosalie couldn’t see it. “I’m just watching the madness unfold.”

“This is just the beginning.” Rosalie’s voice was gloomy. “And _I_ have no way out of it.”

That explained it. Of course Rosalie would be glaring at the house across the street — she would blame the neighbours for her own suffering. That was far more in character.

“I’m sure if you talked to Alice she would understand-”

Esme’s halfhearted reassurance was interrupted by the garage door banging open. A very tall stack of boxes came through shortly after with two very small, very pale hands visible at its base. Alice appeared from behind it once it had been set down and immediately turned to take another stack from a rather bewildered looking Jasper. Each box contained hundreds of Christmas lights, enough that Esme felt faint at the idea of having to pack them all up at the end of the season. In spite of her clairvoyance, Alice never seemed to think that far ahead when she decorated, which had led to many family feuds as they tried to detangle lights and cram them back into their boxes.

The feeling of dread only intensified when Jasper hauled in several bioluminescent snowmen and reindeer.

“Oh, _Alice…”_

Her daughter’s grin was wicked. 

“Alright, kids — all hands on deck.”

 

As it so turned out, Alice, Emmett, and Jasper had come up with a plan. 

This plan involved a solid hour of going over blueprints put begrudgingly together by Rosalie, who was the only one in the family with any architectural sense, and a high-speed midnight setup.

“The neighbours won’t see,” Alice had promised. “We’ll be quiet.”

Esme couldn’t help but think that was what Alice had said when she had officially moved into Rosalie’s room — a promise long since broken. But, regardless, she decided to trust her.

So, once the sun had gone down and the humans had gone to sleep, her children trudged down the stairs, dressed entirely in black. They filed one-by-one out onto the front lawn: first Alice, then Jasper, then Emmett, then Edward and Bella, and, finally, Rosalie, who, despite her pout, had said nothing to try and weasel her way out of the ordeal.

To their credit, they were quiet. Even with her enhanced hearing, Esme could just barely hear the patter of footsteps on the roof as she sat inside, reading.

“They’re getting on quite well, wouldn’t you say?” Carlisle asked as he came to lay down beside her. She had been grateful to have him back after a long day at work — she hadn’t been sure she could survive the decorating frenzy alone.

Esme set down her worn copy of _Emma_ and listened for a moment. 

“Surprisingly well,” she agreed. “I was expecting them to have ripped each other’s throats already, but I haven’t heard a word of conflict.”

“Not even from Rosalie?” His eyes sparked knowingly.

“Not a peep.”

“How long do you think it will last?”

“Ideally, forever,” Esme said with a wry smile. “But we both know that’s not going to happen.”

But, for once, that is exactly what happened. The kids kept working away outside for another hour and half until, finally, a breathless Alice appeared and urged them out of bed to come see the display.

Esme had to admit that it was a sight to behold. If the house across the street looked like a gingerbread house, theirs looked like an icy palace. Fake icicles hung alongside the real ones and bright white lights cast everything around them in silver. The lawn decorations had been placed in and around the bushes and, to Esme’s surprise, didn’t even look tacky.

“Well?” Alice asked, bouncing up on her toes. “What do you think?”

“It’s lovely, dear,” Esme said with all a mother’s earnestness.

Alice’s eyes lit up brighter than their house and she clapped her hands together once in delight. “It is, isn’t it?” And then, turning back to the house, she called, “Okay, guys, we’re done. You can come down now.”

At the command, the shadows of Esme’s other children appeared along the edge of the roof. Jasper was the first down, landing with an expression of pure exhaustion. He would have had it the worst — he would do anything for Alice without a word of complaint, hours and hours of Christmas decorating included. Rosalie landed neatly at his side less than a second later. She looked less forgiving than Jasper, her usually perfect hair blown askew in the winter wind and her eyes dark. She made a beeline for the front door, but, before she could even turn the knob, the sound of glass shattering filled the air and everything went dark.

Emmett hit the ground shortly thereafter.

“Whoops. Must’ve hit a light.”

Sure enough, there in the middle of a string of lights were the jagged edges of a bulb.

Alice sighed. “I guess we’re taking that apart tomorrow. We haven’t got any extra lights, so…”

There was a long moment of silence.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

And then Rosalie launched herself at Emmett, knocking him back into a snowbank almost as tall as she was.

“-bother to check where you’re stepping!”

Esme exchanged a look with Carlisle.

“Do you know how long I’ve spent listening to Alice-“

They decided it was a lost cause and started for the door.

“-don’t even like Christmas!”

Rosalie and Emmett did not come back inside for another ten minutes, Emmett looking shaken and Rosalie pale and livid.

With one foot on the stairs, Rosalie said, “If anyone so much as comes near me with a Christmas decoration in the next twenty-four hours, I will not hesitate to rip off their hand.”

Rosalie did not join the family to fix the lights the next day.


	5. Hot Chocolate

_ on the fifth day of christmas... _

Alice had always been different. That much had been obvious from day one when she’d waltzed into their lives knowing everything about them. 

But she had odd little quirks about her, too. Those didn’t emerge until later.

Rosalie didn’t notice most of them, not at first; but, over the years, as she had become attuned to Alice, they became apparent. Rosalie began to notice the little things like how Alice liked to curl up in her bed for hours at a time at night or how she never used her second sight in school.

When Rosalie had asked why, Alice’s response had been simple.

“It helps me feel human,” she’d said with a shrug.

Rosalie had never understood how Alice did it without feeling the bitter sting of longing. She supposed it was different, imitating something you had never had. Alice would never really know what it was she was missing, and Rosalie wasn’t sure if she would prefer that over the pain of wanting to go back.

The rest of them had moved past their transformation. For Carlisle and Jasper, it was so long in the past that it no longer mattered. Esme had been given her family in the end. Edward had never been particularly attached to his humanity, and he’d had nothing to leave behind, anyways. Bella and Emmett had been more than willing to accept their new fate.

Rosalie would never move past it. She had long since given up on trying. And so, to a point, she empathized with Alice.

That wasn’t to say she wasn’t happy, of course. She could be — if she tried. She knew what it was to adore and to be adored, and she thought she had grown to understand love, too, though that had come more slowly.

None of that stopped her from wanting it all back.

One particular winter when their family had gone to the French Alps to ski, Rosalie had come down from her room to find Alice waiting on the kettle in the kitchen, fingers drumming on the granite countertop. A mug filled with brown powder sat next to her. 

“You know, I never did get to taste chocolate,” Alice said ruefully. “Hot chocolate has always seemed like such a nice idea. Even the smell…”

“I remember loving it as a child,” Rosalie said, settling herself at the counter. “The memory is so distant that I can’t say remember anything but that.”

“Do you want some?”

“I’d like that.”


	6. Snow

_ on the sixth day of christmas... _

None of the Cullen kids were sure where the title ‘Snow Queen’ had originated. But, for whatever reason, it followed Rosalie wherever they went.

Alice, personally, had never understood the nickname, but she supposed that had something to do with the fact her relationship with Rosalie had always had a sort of burning intensity to it. Rosalie had never had much patience with Alice.

She _guessed_ she could see it; Rosalie did have a tendency to give most people the cold shoulder and she had long since mastered the art of freezing people mid-leer. In her bad moods, she was more than a little frosty. That was probably all the humans ever picked up from her — they did keep their distance, after all. How they missed her red-hot temper, though, Alice didn’t know. She didn’t exactly hide it.

Regardless, Alice wasn’t one to miss an opportunity.

“You know, Alice, just because the humans call me ‘Snow Queen’ at school doesn’t mean you get to force me into an Elsa costume at home.”

“Oh, but it does _,_ Rose. It _does.”_


	7. Mistletoe

_ on the seventh day of christmas... _

After five years of living with the Cullens, Alice had drawn one conclusion about Rosalie Hale, and it was that she had been put on earth specifically to torture Alice.

Sure, it had been Alice’s own fault in the beginning. Rosalie had been nothing but amiable, or at least what counted as amiable coming from Rosalie, and had given Alice no reason to view her as anything but a sister, or at least a friend. (Alice wasn’t quite on board with the ‘sister’ thing.)

Alice’s attraction to her was a problem of Alice’s alone.

Or, at least, it had been.

Rosalie wasn’t stupid — she had figured it out. She knew exactly why it was Alice could never quite relax around her. 

And, because Rosalie was Rosalie, she seized every opportunity to toy with Alice.

It wasn’t cruel at first. Alice didn’t think she ever did it to be _cruel._ It had started almost a year ago, almost certainly following Rosalie’s initial realization of exactly the sort of effect she could have on Alice.

Back then, it had been so innocent; it had just been Rosalie turning the feminine charm up a notch and wearing shorter skirts and tighter dresses just to see what Alice’s reaction would be. That, Alice had been able to hold out against. She could just focus on Rosalie’s face when she talked to her and remind herself that she had seen far more of Rosalie than her new clothes revealed thanks to Rosalie and Emmett’s unabashed physicality.

In more recent months, it had gotten worse (if Alice could realistically call Rosalie abruptly becoming cuddly _worse_ ). On family movie nights, Alice was certain that Rosalie went out of her way to be as close to Alice as possible. She had also developed the habit of using her as furniture, resting her head of blonde curls in Alice’s lap as she watched television or flipped through a magazine. She was always just a bit too close, but Alice could never tell her to back off and could never bring herself to leave.

The little self-satisfied smirk Rosalie wore drove Alice insane.

And she knew it. She _knew_ it and it just got worse. 

Alice had never hated her affinity for women more.

She particularly hated it as the holiday season approached that year. Normally, Alice was the most upbeat throughout the winter, but this year she had hardly come out of her room except for the initial decorations.

This was, of course, because of the mistletoe.

They put it up every year in random doorways as a cute little joke. Alice had never been opposed to familial affection — a kiss on the cheek, or, with Jasper, a little peck on the lips because he enjoyed it and _why not_ — but this year was different. It was like Rosalie was _trying_ to trap her.

Rosalie had always had the disconcerting ability to sneak up on her, as if she knew exactly when Alice wasn’t paying mind to the future. This was doubly unsettling with the house set up like a mistletoe minefield.

It wasn’t that Alice had any particular aversion to giving Rosalie a quick kiss on the cheek. She had done it dozens of times before because that was just how she was, but lately Alice had been doing all she could to avoid initiating contact with Rosalie. When she was carefully separated from the other girl, she could at least play at some sort of removed composedness. When they got too close, it couldn’t have been more obvious how intense Alice’s attraction to Rosalie was.

So she was avoiding the mistletoe at all costs. 

However, there was only so long she could hide away before her mother appeared and demanded that she come out and spend some time with her family. All _that_ had led to was a whole lot of looking into the future and carefully avoiding Rosalie, who was much more present than she usually was around Christmastime. 

While they were in the same room, Alice had no complaints about Rosalie being around. Teasing and torture aside, she genuinely enjoyed spending time with her.

Alice found herself in one of the situations in which Rosalie was not actively taunting her on one particular December day when the boys had gone hunting and Esme was busy running errands. The two girls had managed to arrange themselves comfortably apart in the living room and were coexisting peacefully enough that Alice let her guard down.

That was her first mistake.

Her second mistake was leaving the room to retrieve her crocheting from the study.

Her third and probably most fatal mistake was not paying attention on her way back to where Rosalie was.

She focused too late. When she looked up as she went to pass into the living room, she found Rosalie leaning against the doorframe, looking down at her with one eyebrow raised.

Alice determinedly looked no higher than Rosalie’s eyes. They had hung mistletoe in that doorway, she _knew_ they had, but if she ignored it…

“I believe you’re forgetting something.”

Alice rocked back on her heels, seriously debating running for it. Instinct told her she wouldn’t make it far. “What’s that?”

“I’m hurt, Alice.” Rosalie put a hand to her chest with a wounded look, though her eyes, now a dark ochre, had an unsettling glint to them. “It’s almost like you’re avoiding me.”

“Why would I be avoiding you?” Alice’s voice had gone several pitches higher.

Rosalie reached the hand she had to her chest out and rested it on the doorframe just above Alice’s head. Running was really out of the question now.

“That’s just it,” Rosalie said with a little pout. _Oh, no._ “I don’t know. Am I doing something wrong?”

“No. Of course not.” She had been too good.

“Then why do I never see you these days?”

_You know perfectly well why._

“The holidays are busy.”

Rosalie’s perfect pout was still in place. _Goodness,_ she was beautiful.

“That’s such a shame.” She leaned a little closer. Alice thought that if she’d had a heartbeat, it would have been audible across the house to even the feeblest human ears. She felt _scared._  “And here we had just begun to get closer…”

Alice had flattened herself against the doorframe, but she had nowhere to go.

Did she even _want_ to go anywhere?

Rosalie face was close, now.

Yes. She did want to go somewhere. Anywhere but there. She didn't want it to be like  _this-_

“Do you remember what you forgot now?”

When Alice finally glanced up at the mistletoe, Rosalie closed the distance between their lips.

It lasted for just a moment but maybe longer than it should have. Rosalie lingered just long enough for Alice to process that she tasted like spearmint.

Alice expected to find Rosalie smiling that smug smile of hers when she pulled back, but the taller girl just looked at her for a moment, her gaze serious. And then she spun on her heel and was back in the living room reading _Jane Eyre_ as if nothing had happened. Alice shivered.

They both avoided the mistletoe after that.


	8. Christmas Shopping

_on the eighth day of christmas..._

There were a lot of things Rosalie didn’t like about Christmas. She didn’t like being force-fed religion. She didn’t like being dragged into decorating their house for hours on end. She didn’t like hearing the same carols over and over again.

Most of all, she didn’t like shopping for Alice.

Every year, it was the same story.

“You have to promise.”

“I already did.”

“And you have to _mean it.”_

“I did!”

“No peeking.”

“I know.”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I _know.”_

And every year, she broke her promise. It was one thing to be dating a girl who saw the future, but it was quite another to be dating a girl who saw the future and refused to turn a blind eye to her own gifts.

It wasn’t that Alice was hard to shop for. Like Emmett, Alice was always thrilled with whatever she was given. It was that, unlike Emmett, Alice knew exactly what was coming. It always felt a little like failure when she smiled her knowing smile, like there was something more that Rosalie could have done to keep it a secret.

Yet, year after year, Rosalie tried. She still went Christmas shopping with Jasper like she always did. She still consulted him to make sure that whatever she bought was perfect. She still went through the process of stowing whatever she bought away amidst other purchases and wrapping it when Alice wasn’t home.

It was all pointless, of course. Alice always saw every step.

Sometimes, Rosalie wondered why she even bothered.

But then Christmas morning would roll around, and she would get to watch Alice’s face light up as though she were no older than eight. It was easy to remember then why she bothered. Things were different for Alice in her visions than in reality, and there was something about solidifying what she saw that seemed to bring her immense joy. It made all the frustration worth it.

At least until next year, when it would start all over again.


	9. Stockings

_on the ninth day of christmas..._

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate shopping for stocking stuffers?” Rosalie asked, turning a cheap miniature candle over in her hand and squinting at the label.

“Yes.” Alice plucked the candle from her grasp and set it back on the shelf. “Several times in the last hour, actually. You know I’d do it for you if you really wanted.”

They both knew that plan would be doomed before it took off.

“And have Edward tell Esme that I didn’t do it when it was my turn? No thank you. I’d rather not be on stocking duty for the next century.”

“Then stop whining. You only have to do it once every eight years.”

“I don’t _whine.”_

Alice rolled her eyes and walked ahead of Rosalie, coming to a stop at a display of Play-Doh. She looked at it for a moment before reaching to the middle of the display and pulling out a small tub with a loud red lid. After another second of thought, she grabbed a yellow one, too.

Dropping them in the cart, she said, “The red is for Emmett and the yellow is for me.”

“You don’t have to pick stuff out for yourself, you know.” Rosalie took a slinky from a shelf to her left. That would keep Emmett busy for at least a day. “You are by far the easiest to please.”

She shrugged. “It makes things go faster. Besides, it’s not like I don’t already know what I’m getting.”

“There’s a difference between you knowing what you’re getting and you physically putting the things into the cart.”

“And what’s that?”

“I don’t even get a chance to come up with the ideas on my own.”

“Well, you _would_ have. I’m just speeding up the process.”

At this, Alice dumped another few things into the cart, one by one. “Those are for Jasper, Bella, and Edward, respectively.”

“Why are we giving Bella a Rubik’s Cube?” Rosalie asked. Edward, of the pair, had always been the one more inclined towards doing puzzles. Logic had never been Bella’s forte.

“Don’t ask me,” Alice said, putting her hands up. “I’m just doing what the future says. She’s going to accidentally drop it down the garbage disposal in March anyways.”

“Then why bother getting it in the first place?”

“Do you want to get this done or not?”

Rosalie groaned and pushed her cart after Alice, who just giggled. 

“Laugh all you want,” Rosalie grumbled. “You’re the one who has to deal with me when this is all over.”

“You’re such a grump around Christmastime. It’s funny.”

“I’m like this year-round. This is not Christmas-specific.”

Alice fell back to walk beside her as they left the kid’s section of the store and headed towards the housekeeping section. Esme’s stuffers were always the fastest to collect — she was always thrilled to receive a few ‘Tide-to-Go’s and new cleaning gloves.

“You are not this grumpy year-round,” Alice told her, bumping her shoulder into Rosalie’s side. “You can be perfectly sweet if you want to be.”

Rosalie dropped a pair of gloves into the cart. Pink, this year. Esme would like that.

“I’m not going to be perfectly sweet when we get home.” How many hours did they have left? Two at least, probably three. They hadn’t even started on Carlisle’s stocking, and he was always the hardest.

“No?” Alice shot her a coy look. “Not even if I give you one of your presents early?”

_Damn it._ Rosalie hated that look. For all Alice’s usual childlike innocence, she was certainly capable of turning into a little minx when she so chose.

“I have my doubts.”

Alice’s eyes had gone almost imperceptibly darker. 

_Damn. It._

“Are you sure? Because it _really_ wouldn’t be too much trouble for me to pop out and do some shopping I was going to do later.” She drew a pale finger along Rosalie’s arm. “I promise it would be worth being a good girl for just a little while longer.”

Rosalie swallowed. “Alice, that’s hardly fair.”

“It’s your call,” Alice said with a charming smile. “I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Rosalie decided, as she watched her girlfriend disappear, that she would be good. (It was worth it, in the end.)

Regardless, she would dread stocking stuffer shopping for the next eight years.


	10. YouTube

_on the tenth day of christmas..._

“Rosalie, would you care to explain how this is in any way festive?”

“I agreed to decorate our room. I never agreed to decorate it _well.”_

“Did you even try?”

“I went to the trouble of finding it, didn’t I?”

“Finding an eight-hour YouTube video of a fireplace — with or without sound effects — is not _trying.”_

“And why is that?”

“A toddler could have done that if they mashed keys long enough.”

“I thought it was rather clever, considering Esme won’t let us have an actual fireplace in here.”

“ _I_ think it’s a cop-out. You’re such a Scrooge.”

“What did you want me to do? Erect a monument in honour of Saint Nicholas?”

“No. But you could have done _something.”_

“I did do something.”

“More than one something.”

“Well, I did put mistletoe above the bed…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What kind of prompt is 'YouTube'? I'll never know.


	11. Cough Drops

_on the eleventh day of christmas..._

“Figures we get stuck with her the day she gets sick.” Rosalie, slumped in an armchair by Edward’s window, scowled at the lump of blankets and Kleenex that was Bella Swan.

Or, at least that’s what Bella _thought_ Rosalie was doing. Her eyes were bleary with sleep and her left ear had been plugged up all day. She wouldn’t have believed Rosalie was even there were Alice, who was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed with her sketchbook, not very blatantly glaring in Rosalie’s direction.

“No one’s making you stay,” Alice said. “Actually, no one made you come here in the first place. You don’t exactly frequent Edward’s room.”

“It’s hardly fair that _I_ don’t get to see you all weekend because _Edward_ left you to babysit his human. The Christmas holidays do not put her 'at a greater risk than ever'.” Bella couldn’t help but think that Rosalie’s tone was bordering on a whine. Maybe it was just her ear acting up.

Alice sighed and uncrossed her legs, swinging them over the bed. “You’re not exactly keeping good company right now.”

“I’d be in a better mood if I didn’t have to listen to her coughing every five seconds,” Rosalie said. “Also, if you’d stop acting like it’s your civic duty to nurse her back to health. She has a _cold.”_

“You could go get cough drops or do something useful if it bothers you so much,” Alice retorted. Hopping off the bed and handing her mate a bag that Bella assumed Rosalie had dropped on her way in, Alice continued, “In fact, that is what you’re going to do. Go get Bella some cough drops and cold medicine from Walgreens. It’ll only take half an hour. No — don’t argue. Go. Shoo.”

Bella blinked, and Rosalie was gone. She wasn’t sure whether to attribute that to vampire speed or her own inability to process anything, but, when she opened her eyes, it was just her and Alice.

“I promise she isn’t like that all the time,” Alice said, jumping back onto the bed and smiling apologetically at Bella.

“S’okay.” Bella rolled onto her back. “I know Rosalie doesn’t like me. I don’t blame her.”

Alice frowned. “Rosalie doesn’t necessarily dislike you, Bella. She just has very a very complicated view of mortality, and it sort of gets pinned on you. Carlisle used to get the brunt of it.”

Bella sat up and reached for another Kleenex. She was never sure how to respond to various Cullens’ reassurances that Rosalie didn’t dislike her; it certainly _seemed_ like Rosalie disliked her.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Alice said after a moment of silence, “Rosalie and I didn’t get along at first, either.”

_That_ was news. Bella’s ear unplugged itself just to be sure she was hearing correctly. From what Bella had seen during her time at the Cullen house, Alice was the only one Rosalie ever _really_ listened to — not counting the parental authority Esme and Carlisle sometimes commanded. Although the two bickered, they also seemed to understand the other without really needing to say anything. Bella assumed that came from just _clicking._

“Really?”

“Really really. I had a knack for getting under her skin.” Alice smiled as she twirled her pencil between her fingers, like her memories of aggravating Rosalie were fond ones. “She couldn’t stand me. She says I was too hyper and cheerful and that it was ‘creepy’. I think I unnerved her, so she lashed out.”

Bella sneezed. 

And again.

Alice switched her pencil over to the other hand, uncharacteristically patient.

“Sorry. Continue.”

“I don’t know that you’ll want to listen to the rest. Rosalie and I have a complicated past. But I can tell you that she gets over these things — eventually.” Alice stopped twirling her pencil and rested it on her sketchbook, looking thoughtful. “I’m not sure what will calm her down about you and Edward, though; she didn’t start getting along with me until she worked out that I was very, very queer and very, very attracted to her. I don’t think you’re going down that road.”

“Aren’t you psychic?”

Alice’s expression darkened. “Yes, but Rosalie has always been… evasive. She’s the only person who’s ever surprised me.”

“Really? When?”

“As much as I hate to say it, lots of times. She used to use it to her advantage all the time. Actually, the first time we-” Alice cut herself off, her eyes going blank. After a second, she shook her head, seeming to come back down to earth. “Whoops. Edward will kill me if I tell you that.”

Bella sat up a little straighter at this, intrigued now. “What? Why?”

“The usual reasons.” Alice sighed dramatically and flopped onto her back. “Overprotectiveness. Delusions about your innocence. Vague homophobia, which doesn’t even make _sense_ because Rosalie is _bi_ and- you know what, never mind. The point here is that Rosalie won’t be horrible to you forever. She can be quite charming.”

“She’d have to be to deserve you,” Bella said. The words sounded a bit insincere in the new nasally voice she had acquired, but her friend seemed to get it.

Alice laughed and sat back up, reaching to hand Bella yet another Kleenex. “You’re too sweet.”

“No,” Bella snuffled, her head starting to feel heavy, “ _you’re_ too sweet. You don’t have to look after me like this.”

“Go back to sleep, Bella. You’re exhausted.”

“But you’ve just been sitting there all day…” 

She was about to say something more about how boring it must be getting, but, before the words could leave her mouth, Alice put a hand on Bella’s shoulder and guided her back into a lying position.

“Sleep. I promise that I won’t die of boredom and that I’ll protect you from my scary girlfriend.”

Bella fell asleep somewhere in the middle of her protest that Rosalie wasn’t _that_ scary.

It would have been a lie, anyways.


	12. Keepsake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, to wrap it all up, have some fluff from Alice's perspective. Merry Christmas!

_on the twelfth day of christmas..._

After Rosalie and Emmett officially broke up in autumn, I’d expected the holidays to be a bit nightmarish. Not because of my psychic intuition, but because their fights had not been pretty in the past. 

Neither of them was taking it particularly hard, though; Emmett was still cheerful and as in everyone’s face as usual (Rosalie included), and Rosalie wasn’t any grumpier than she had been last year. It was actually the most maturely I had ever seen either of them deal with something.

Still, they weren’t technically _mature_ about it. Just less immature than usual.

“Emmett, _why_ did you take my winter boots when you moved out of the room?”

“Come on, babe, you know they always looked better on me.”

“For Christ’s sake, _give them back.”_

They had been bickering about what belonged to whom for the last month, but, other than that, nothing much had changed with them other than that they were both suddenly more accessible at night.

That had been a relief for me. Even though Rosalie and I had stopped whatever it was we had been doing (it had been getting too intense for me, so I’d decided to spare Rosalie, who didn’t deal well with emotions), I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that it was somehow my fault that they had ended things.

_Emmett knew,_ I reminded myself over and over. _He knew and he was okay with it._

He never knew the full scope of _exactly_ how deeply I felt about Rosalie (only Jasper and Edward were privy to that internal disaster — and, to some extent, Rosalie herself), but he had known that Rosalie and I were involved. 

_Were_. Past tense. I was not a part of this.

The day before Christmas passed more or less without incident. Regardless, I was always on hyper alert in case something needed smoothing over. My vigilance was unnecessary for the most part; once Rosalie got her boots back, things were fairly calm.

I was actually relaxed enough — and mentally exhausted enough from monitoring Rosalie and Emmett — that I found time to sit still in the evening, planting myself on the window seat in our den.

For a while, I was content to sit like that, alone. But, when Jasper poked his head in the room and smiled his lopsided smile, I found myself scooting to the side to make room for him. 

“Not feeling social tonight?”

I half-shrugged. “I’m not _not_ feeling social. I’m just…”

“Tired?”

“In a sense.”

He lifted me like I was no heavier than a child and settled me onto his lap. I rested my head on his chest and let him wrap his arms around me.

“So, where have you been all day?” Jasper asked after a long silence. “I’ve seen you less than this town sees sunshine.”

I felt a sigh building in my chest, but I swallowed it. I had no right to feel drained from something no one was making me do.

Jasper picked up on this. “Still mediating, then?”

“Yeah.”

“You know they don’t need wrangling, darlin’,” he said, rubbing my arm absently.  I often wondered where I would be without his friendship and guidance. “They’ve never been at peace with each other. I know it doesn’t seem like it to you, but they’re really not arguing any more than they used to, and, even if they were, it would hardly be your fault.”

“I could have done something to stop it,” I mumbled. Of course I could have — and of course I hadn’t. Some part of me still wanted Rosalie. Most parts of me, actually. I would have been a terrible, horrible liar if I’d told myself anything otherwise.

“You know better than anyone that some things are just inevitable.”

“But this might not have been.” I fiddled with the sleeve of my sweater, balling it up and then releasing it just to ball it up again.

“The past is the past,” Jasper murmured. He did nothing to create artificial calm, and I wasn’t sure if I wouldn’t have preferred that he did. He never affected my rawest emotions. Something about ‘coping on my own’ and ‘self-sufficiency’. “You’ve told me that countless times.”

“Nothing I say ever applies to me.”

“Don’t I know it, you little hypocrite.” He laughed.

We were quiet for a long time, then, as we so often were. The only sounds in the air were the footsteps of our family members and the crackle of the fireplace across the room. I thought I might have drifted off to sleep if I were human.

And then, of course, Rosalie, being Rosalie, ruined the calm.

Not that I think she _intentionally_ ruined it. There was no devilishness in her expression — actually, she looked kind of nervous as she stood in the doorway.

“Can I borrow Alice for a minute?” she asked. Yes, that was definitely nervousness; Rosalie never really asked for permission when she interrupted people, but she seemed to genuinely waiting for a response.

After stealing a quick look at me — _you okay?_ — Jasper said, “She’s all yours.”

And we were alone. I missed him immediately.

Rosalie took a few steps into the den and looked pointedly at the space next to me. For the second time, I shifted to make room. She settled herself beside me, and, though I had been cuddled into Jasper just moments prior, her proximity was almost suffocating.

We were quiet for a while. 

“I didn’t get you a present this year,” she finally said.

“I know.”

Rosalie kept her eyes trained on the flames licking at the glass of the fireplace. “I did try. Nothing seemed right.”

I knew that, too. I’d seen Rosalie change her mind about thirty times until it all went blank. That had been unnerving, but I had managed to put it out of my mind until now.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to give you something, though,” she said, clasping her hands together. She still wasn’t looking at me. “I talked to Emmett and Jasper, and they both agreed that it would be a good idea to give you something meaningful. Clarification.”

“Clarification?” I repeated, tilting my head to the side.

Rosalie took a deep breath. It sounded shaky, for a vampire. “I haven’t liked being apart from you the last few years. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and…” She trailed off, trying to find the right words.

She was right, of course. Things hadn’t been the same between us since I’d broken off whatever it was we had been — ‘friends with benefits’ was the modern term for it, I guessed. We got along just fine, but there was always something strained in the words we exchanged, in the time we spent together.

“You know that was only because it was too-” I stumbled on the word. “It was too real for me, Rosalie. You know that.”

“That’s what I’m trying to get at, here,” she said quickly, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes were bright with what I might have almost called anxiety. “It wasn’t just you. I didn’t think about it at first, but Emmett kept saying things…”

_“Emmett_ kept saying things?” I asked, mostly to buy myself time to process what exactly was going on.

“He’s been bothering me about it all year.” Before I could ask the next obvious question, she continued, “We haven’t been together for a while now. Surely you noticed.”

I shrugged, and she groaned frustratedly.

“ _God,_ you’re blind for someone who can see the future.”

I shrugged again, staring at my feet. 

Rosalie reached out and turned my face towards her. Though she was irritated (when wasn’t she irritated with me, though, really?), her touch was gentle.

“The best thing I could think to give you was the truth, and that is that I’m just as much in love with you as you are with me. I know it’s not as good of a keepsake as something tangible, but-”

Just like they did in every cheesy romance movie, I cut her off by pressing my lips to hers. It was only the second time we had kissed outside the bedroom, and it was by far more pleasant than the first mistletoe kiss.

“You’re right,” I said when I pulled back. “It’s not as good as something tangible. It’s better.”


End file.
